Vampires were a dark force in Tamriel. The most beautiful inhabitants of the night were dark and twisted creatures. Composed of hatred, knowledge, thirst, and a power they could never obtain in life, vampires represented among the most powerful of the undead monstrosities which lived in our world. When one thought of a vampire, they often thought of a barbaric humanoid beast, who slept in dark caves during the day, and ventured out during the most unholy hours of the night, to feast, to slaughter the mortals they held in contempt. But vampires were much more. They were intelligent. Masters at hiding in plain sight, they were wolves in sheep's clothing. They wore the faces of our friends, lovers, neighbors, they were the terror in the night. And sometimes they created large, twisted families. Like Movarth.
Movarth often dreamt. He slept long hours. So dreaming was a common enough past-time for the ancient vampire. He dreamt of the past. He dreamt of his days as a fledgling. He dreamt of the day he saw his creator die. He dreamt of the future he had been brave enough to envision with his "children". He dreamt of a world where he ruled. Where he owned a town, of cattle. Which is what they were. Cattle. Cows. But larger. And occasionally more dangerous. He dreamt of his eventual success over Morthal.
Some misconceptions exist about vampires. Many vampires become vampires willingly. Not all, but many. Vampire bites are not painful, but rather they are pleasurable. Which is why many thralls exist. In order to become a thrall, a person must be bitten by a vampire, and often times the bite is so pleasant they orgasm, unable to control themselves. Once bitten, only the strongest of willed can disobey their biter, and most are overwhelmed by the need to obey their master, the vampire who bit them, and its been noted by captured thralls, that obeying the master can often result in a sense of amazing pleasure. And the strongest vampires are often the most civilized, not the savage monstrous vampires which do exist, and in great number. But for a vampire, true power is the ability to seduce their prey.
Alva watched with amused eyes. The adventurer she had taken was something else. The minute this young beauty had seen Alva, she had been enthralled. Alva felt a sense of pleasure, being the master not the servant. Though she had yet to tell her master, the vampire Movarth, about her prize servant, the unnamed adventurer, the adventurer in her beauty easily captured the eye of many of the town's guards, effortlessly seducing them. Alva had easily claimed her prize, using her to ensnare even more of the men, coming out as a vampire to her servant, and her servant fell to her knees, begging to be tortured, to be hurt, for the pleasure of Alva. Alva remembered her first encounter with the young woman.
Seated inside of the inn, Alva was busy eating. Vampires could eat, but it tasted bland to them, unless cooked raw. She had not requested her veal to be fresh. She never did. Eating solely for the appearance of being normal. Alva, was at her heart a whore. She felt a sense of pride, each moment she was able to look up and realize she could see someone she had seduced, someone she had taken into her sensual embrace.
Alva was beautiful. Her beauty was unmatched by anyone else native to the hold. As was her skill in bed. Her mouth thirsted, not only for the taste of blood, but also for the other source of human life, the essence of men, their hot, thick, sperm. This talent had led to her becoming a master at whoring herself out to anyone who caught her eye. And due in part to her masters order, that was effectively everyone. Even then, she wondered with a rush of excitement who she'd take to bed later that evening. After all, just because she was dead, doesn't mean she didn't like some rough, hot sex with a powerful guard every night. She was a woman. She did have needs. But when she heard the door to the inn open, it'd change her.
The beauty who entered the inn, caught even Alva's attention. The body on the adventurer was tempting. As was the long, beautiful, flowing red hair which went down to her back. Judging from the lightness of step that the woman possessed, and the lack of muscle-mass on her lean figure, it was clear that this adventurer was relatively new. She was young. The naive girls face had no lines, unlike Alva's, despite her dark beauty age had begun to touch her, before Movarth took her into his eternal embrace.
The adventurer also possessed a bounteous chest. Something else Alva didn't posses. But the adventurer appeared far more innocent than Alva. She appeared pure. Unlike Alva. Alva had an air, which suggested her sense of superiority and her fierce animal instincts. This adventurer, while meek, didn't have the life experience to walk with confidence, to walk with such pride that even the air around someone could be infused with it, making others feel either angry at her pride, or like they needed to pay attention to her. And in Morthal, no one could ignore Alva. Not even the beauty who had just walked in.
The truth behind a vampire's power laid in the gaze of a vampire. Inexperienced people often fell victim to the stare of a vampire. It didn't have to infect someone with fear. It could inspire. It could reinforce. It could attract. Often times it attracted. In this case, it dominated. When the young adventurer met Alva's gaze, her mind was bent. It wasn't snapped. But it was calmed, soothed, and whispered too. The adventurer felt the need to go and speak with Alva.
She shyly sat down in front of the beautiful woman. Alva smiled, the smile innocent, as if she had no idea as to the adventurer's purpose. When the adventurer introduced herself, she blushed in front of Alva, commenting on her beauty. Alva feigned a shocked smile, and merely said that the adventurer was beautiful herself, and shouldn't doubt her own appearance.
When the two left, they went to Alva's home. It was inside of it, that the adventurer would truly fall.
Alva's superior senses could already detect the adventurer's attraction. She could see the clear, and lovely blush on the nord's face. But she could also hear the shuffling of the adventurer's feet, and taste the slickness between the adventurer's legs. Alva couldn't help but want to take this girl. It wasn't in her nature, but perhaps the idea of corrupting the innocent girl was making Alva feel extra seductive.
The adventurer was stripped in not even an hour. Her armor, physical and mental, fell to Alva's sweet words and chilly touch. At first, the girl fell sleepy when exposed to Alva's chilled fingers. But upon exposure to Alva's heated words, the nameless heroine couldn't help but acknowledge her own slickness. Alva asked her about it, whispering to the girl sensual suggestions, little questions designed to get under the heroine's skin.
Once the armor was off, the girl revealed her sexual body. Her bare, pale skin, begged to be licked, to be used, to be corrupted. Alva happily ran her nails up and down the girls back, marking her with lines, like cuts over her body, but never inflicting pain, and never once drawing blood. As she touched her victim, she also whispered the thoughts of the guards, how they desired her, how they wanted both Alva, and the nameless youth. This also attracted the heroine, her own sensual desires coming to the surface, as a slave, a sexual slave. Like many of the women Alva had known, and a surprising amount of men, the youth desired to be dominated, to be used. Alva had the girl begging to be hers, in minutes.
She pinched the young woman's breasts, her nipples hardening to tiny, sensitive points, seconds after being touched. As Alva felt the need to tease the girl, she also felt her own thirst rising up. Slithering like a snake, she moved so that her mouth was directly on top of the girl's opening. Her victim squirmed, her body not used to such intense teasing, before the first time she felt Alva's tongue.
Alva's cold, slick tongue licked and rubbed the entirety of the heroine's vaginal opening. The heroine felt a massive, wicked surge of pleasure, as her clit was massaged by Alva's tongue, then Alva's residual saliva, cold, seeping into her, almost massaging her by itself, as her body was overtaken by alien, mind-twisting pleasure.
When it was over, the heroine hadn't even been bitten, and she had sworn to serve Alva, and Alva's master with her very existence.
Though Alva had, had her doubts in the beginning her own little slave was very useful. She had actively begun seducing and corrupting guards, and even travelers on her own. And Alva had used her, abused her, beat her, and fed off of her, but it made her servant even more dedicated to her, and Movarth. She was begging to be introduced to the one she referred too as "Father" due to Alva's beaming descriptions of him. She had been used, twisted, and Alva couldn't be happier. Alva felt the time was starting to near, where the heroine would be introduced to Movarth.
A/N: A vampire, Skyrim story. Oh Lord! Chapter two will be up soon.